


Making the Impossible Possible

by adobe_beforeffects



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, Mention of leg deformities and polio, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adobe_beforeffects/pseuds/adobe_beforeffects
Summary: Joey Drew has always been infamous around the studio for his motivational speeches.





	Making the Impossible Possible

Sammy’s fingers practically danced across the strings of the banjo as he carefully plucked out note after note, pausing occasionally to think about the next cord. A set of quick quarter notes, pause, another quick set, two strings being plucked at intermittently as he decided on the next key. He could bring the woodwinds in for this section, get a response from the brass, and build it up into-

A door opening.

A wrong note hit the air sharply and was silenced as Sammy rested his hand against the instrument, running his other hand though his hair as he once again became aware of the awful noise coming from the pump. “I already told you, Wally. If you need the switch, just flip it and leave.” What was he playing again…?

The door groaned in protest as Wally leaned his weight against it, flinging his ink-stained mop over his shoulder and leaving a large black mark on the door. “Actually, Joey had me come down here. He said we got some sorta meetin’ up in the main theater room.“

“So you’re his messenger now?“ Sammy had already given up on remembering the song, instead carefully placing the banjo at the base of the desk.

“Apparently!“ The janitor straightened up and set the mop head back on the floor, sending a fresh spray of ink splattering against the wood. Sammy’s disgruntlement ticked one step further to full-on irritation. “Joey’s been having me run all around the place tellin’ everyone about this stupid meeting of his. What do I look like, a newsie?“

“You look like someone who’s getting ink all over my door,“ Sammy replied sagely, rising from the chair as Wally turned around in bewilderment. He swept his way past the janitor as he uttered a choice exploitative at the newly-created mess, joining the flow of people in the hall.

“Does Mr. Drew always hold meetings like this?“ A familiar southern accent rose above the chatter, and Susie soon fell in line with him. Sammy could feel his annoyance slipping away at her presence as they started up the stairs. If Wally was incompetent, terrible at following directions, and generally useless, Susie was almost his exact opposite - she was capable, charming, and quite frankly was much too talented to work in a place like this. Much like himself, really. _  
_

“Only when he feels the studio needs a pick-me-up. It’s been about three months since the last one, so I suppose we’re overdue.” He paused as they entered into the main projector room. Most of the other employees had already arrived, taking up the few available chairs and regulating the rest of them to standing. Sammy located the rest of the music department and moved to stand with them, Susie trailing behind. “Of course, I doubt anything sort of a pay raise will get folk’s spirits up now. Not that he’d subtract from his own paycheck to do that…“

“He could always say he’s come to his senses and is getting rid of that blasted machine of his,“ Norman piped up as they joined the band. “It’s impossible to any work done with that damn thing running all the time. I can’t even hear the band with it on, and they’re less than ten feet in front of me!“

He had a point. Even now the pumping, rattling beat of the contraption was almost overbearing, filling the already noisy room with a roaring din that only made people raise their voices even louder to be heard over it. Sammy shot a disdainful look at the doorway. “This might be one of the few times I’m glad that our department is two stories under everything else. How anyone can work with that racket going on at this volume is beyond me.”

Susie opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again upon noticing the chatter around her dimming to to whispers, then silence. The pulsating chugging of the machine was now joined by the sound of footsteps and an occasional soft thud as a familiar figure made its way to the front of the room. Joey Drew turned to stand in front of the projector, placing his cane out in front of him and resting his hands on top, ever-present smile on his pale face. “Good evening folks! How’s everyone doing?“

A less than agreeable murmur ran through the audience. Normally Joey’s warm demeanor would brighten up any room, but right now it was dimmed by the presence of the machine rattling away in the background. Joey let out a _tsk_ under his breath, shaking his head like one would when dealing with a disobedient child. “You see, that kind of attitude is what we need to talk about today.”

“Is he really doing this speech again?” Sammy murmured.

“What speech is that?” Susie whispered back, keeping her eyes trained on Joey.

“Just watch. Joey’s given this one so many times we’ve practically got it memorized word-for-word at this point.”

“I figure you’re not a real employee of Joey Drew Studios unless you’ve heard this one at least half a dozen times,” Norman added. “Hell, make it two dozen just to be safe.“

“Seventeen years ago, I became very ill.” The group fell silent again as Joey’s voice drifted over the crowd. “The doctors diagnosed it as paralytic polio, and told me that there was a 30% chance I would die from it. Now obviously, that didn’t quite come to fruition.” This got a few chuckles from the newer employees who weren’t already familiar with the joke. “However, the problem with polio is that the initial illness isn’t always the issue. In my case, the disease weakened the muscles in my right leg.“

Joey turned to the right and started taking one slow step after another, walking very deliberately across the front of the room so everyone could clearly see what he was talking about. Even though his shoe and pant leg hid the actual flesh, it was obvious something was wrong with the limb. It was almost as if someone had taken it at the knee and violently twisted it to the right, then smashed the toes in for good measure. “The doctors told me I would never be able to walk again. ‘It was impossible!,’ they’d say.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes.

“Never mind his bad leg,“ Norman muttered. “Doesn’t he seem a bit… peculiar? More so than usual, I mean.“

“He does seem somewhat tired, I suppose.” Sammy watched as Wally slid in through the back entrance, fresh ink on his mop from cleaning the door. He stood against the far wall and tried to look inconspicuous, failing miserably in the process.

“He’s also looks a bit pale, doesn’t he?“ Susie watched as Joey opened his eyes again and slowly moved back to the center of the room, the animator’s usually lively movements sluggish. “I don’t know, he’s probably just not sleeping well. I’ve heard he’s sunk a lot of money into that new machine - ‘course he’s going to be a bit more restless than usual.“

“But… I refused to give up.“ Joey paused for a moment and closed his eyes again, recollecting himself. There was an edge to his voice, as if in pain. “And here I am, fit as a whistle. You’re all telling me that reaching these deadlines is “impossible“. But impossible is nothing but a word used by people who have already given up! Sometimes, it just takes a bit of extra effort to make the impossible possible. I… I believe that with the right amount of-“

Joey collapsed, his cane slipping out from under him and clattering against the wooden floor.

A few shouts and gasps rose up from the audience, the sound of scraping chairs filling the room as a handful of people stood up to help. Wally was the first one to react, rushing up to the stage and throwing Joey’s arm around his shoulders while holding his waist for support. He uttered a quiet “You okay there, boss?“ as he offered him his cane. Joey took it, trying to right himself.

“Everyone, please, calm down!” Joey was trying to speak lightly, but his breathing was uneven and his voice was somewhat shaky. “I just need a moment to rest and I’ll be… I’ll be just swell.“ He attempted to stand properly again, only to fall back against Wally’s chest. The janitor whispered something about getting out of there and going to the infirmary downstairs. Joey nodded.

“Just make some tracks and get back to work, folks!“ He called out as the two made their way to the door, the crowd’s gossiping picking back up to a low whisper. “Remember what I… well. I know you can do it!“

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, and the studio erupted into chatter.

“See that? It’s a metaphor,“ Sammy mused, staring as the spot where Joey had left.

“How do you figure that?“ Norman pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket and offered the box up. Sammy held up a hand in refusal and Susie shook her head with a “no thank you“, the packet instead being accepted by one of the nearby animators.

“Joey’s given us that speech over and over again, and in previous years we’ve always managed to pull through. This year we’ve already missed three major deadlines, and what happens?“

“I suppose Mr. Drew’s comparison doesn’t work well when he can’t stand,“ Susie pointed out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Sammy nodded.

“Exactly. Did you see the expression on Joey’s face? He knew. Everyone in the studio knew. He can talk about “making the impossible possible“ all he wants, but he can’t make miracles happen.“

Outside the room, the noise from the Ink Machine seemed louder than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [this](https://twitter.com/themeatly/status/881494750020460544) tweet from Meatly, with a bit of my ["Joey was the one using the wheelchair" theory](http://adobe-outdesign.tumblr.com/post/163494779655/bendy-and-the-wheelchair-are-directly-connected) thrown in for good measure.
> 
> Joey, if you didn't pick up on it, is experiencing post-polio syndrome, hence the fatigue.


End file.
